


Colour Me In (or how Bucky Barnes went from self-hatred to snuggles)

by Live_Love_Read



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Bucky Barnes Has Issues, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Bucky Barnes-centric, Diary/Journal, F/M, Gay, Hurt Bucky Barnes, Little!Bucky - Freeform, Love, M/M, Mutual Pining, Nightmares, Non-Sexual Age Play, Not Canon Compliant, Past Relationship(s), Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Steve Rogers, Stucky - Freeform, We don't talk about endgame here, caregiver!Steve, rip my heart
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-16
Updated: 2019-08-16
Packaged: 2020-09-01 21:33:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20264845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Live_Love_Read/pseuds/Live_Love_Read
Summary: Bucky is living with Steve, but the more they are together, the more Bucky becomes confused. He's been getting these...urges. Urges only Littles are supposed to get. Is he a Little? Are he and Steve more than friends?And most importantly:Can Steve save him before it's too late?





	Colour Me In (or how Bucky Barnes went from self-hatred to snuggles)

Cold.

That's the first feeling that registers with him. The feeling of rushing cold air moving past his falling body, the sound of screams so loud they could've punctured his ears, the sight of a train, and then darkness.

Eyes open to see blood, _so much blood,_ and a saw and an arm and people in white coats and bright lights and _just make it stop!!!_ Then, darkness.

Gunshots fire, people scream, heart pounds, blood spills, everything's moving too fast. A feeling of completion. Then, darkness.

A familiar face, a sense of panic, a need to kill, blood spilling, pain echoing, familiar words, falling, diving, dragging, safe, not safe, caught. Then, darkness.

Bright lights, bad man, cheek stings.

“The man on the bridge... who was he?”

Curiosity peaked, fear heightened, cheek still stings.

“You met him earlier this week on another assignment.”

Truth, not truth, know before, cheek still stings. 

“I knew him.”

Memories, memories, get closer, cheek still stings.

“Your work has been a gift to mankind. You shaped the century, and I need you to do it one more time. Society is at a tipping point between order and chaos. Tomorrow morning we're gonna give it a push. But, if you don't do your part, I can't do mine, and HYDRA can't give the world the freedom it deserves.”

Orders given, fear, knowing, must know.

“But I knew him.”

Look, fear, deathly eyes, terror. 

“Prep him.”

Know what’s coming, must remember, fear.

“He's been out of cryo-freeze too long.”

Not freeze, no tank, fear, terror.

“Then wipe him and start over.”

Fear, fear, fear, fear, fear.

Then, darkness.

_“Soldier?” _

_“.....” _

_“Ready to comply.” _

He shoots up in bed, sweat pooling around every part of his body. Frantically, he looks around to get a grasp at his surroundings. Much to his surprise, he is not in a HYDRA cell or being thawed out from cryo-freeze, but instead is in a room. His room, he remembers as his memory slowly begins to wind it’s way back into his way-too-fuzzy-from-sleep brain. As he snatches up his memories, he turns on his lamp and grabs his notebook from his old creaky night table which is located next to his basic bones style bed. Ever since he returned from HYDRA, he never really thought he deserved fancy things. Or anything remotely comfortable for that matter. He only had a mattress because Steve is a stubborn little (well, big now) worrywart who ensured that Bucky had some amount of comfort in his life. Little did Steve know, he got his mattress from a yard sale for free. Usually, sale implies that you have to pay, but nobody wanted the mattress. The owners really treasured it though. They threw it a moving away ceremony. Bucky thinks that that family has some unresolved issues. But honestly, the mattress reminded Bucky of himself. Loved by one person (I mean, he hopes that Steve loves him. Steve tells him that on a daily basis, but pity is a great motivation to lie) and hated and unloved by the rest of the general populace.

Steve always tells him that the people of the world just don’t understand how truly wonderful he is. In reality, it’s really because they think he is a murderer who belongs in a max security prison or dead, but instead, he is hiding behind Captain America and his shield (which Bucky thinks, honestly is the size of a dinner plate).

It’s not like Bucky didn’t have a trial. He did, and he was acquitted of all charges. Bucky was pretty sure that if he wasn’t besties with Captain America that he would have had a needle in his arm long ago. Bucky has had a pretty pessimistic outlook on life ever since he got out of HYDRA. Steve always tells him to look on the bright side, to find the silver lining. Bucky doesn’t really think that there are too many because if you take a look at his life so far, you would realize there’s not too much to be filled with joy about:

First, he was a ladies man. Or, in modern-day terminology, a man whore.

Then, he joined the army. By force. And had to leave his entire family behind (including Stevie).

And after that, he was captured and experimented on by an evil scientist.

Oh, and then he killed too many people for him to count. Or to remember fully, for that matter.

And now, he is just a murderer who is too weak to face his own nightmares and too strong to trust himself to hug a loved one ever again.

So, yeah. He’s finding it a wee bit difficult to “look on the bright side”. It’s hard to look at something that isn’t there.

At this point, he is gripping his notebook so hard that his knuckles are turning white on his right hand, and the book is beginning to warp in his left hand. Horrified, he drops his notebook (which is more like a glorified diary) and curls up into a ball. Sometimes, his arm doesn’t feel like his arm or even like an extension of his body. It just feels like a machine used to kill. Just like how all of him feels a lot of the time.

What he also feels a lot of the time, is confused. Sometimes, he gets these visions. Memories maybe? Of Steve. And him. Together. Not just like regular best friends forever shit, but like _together_ together. Like kissing together.

Somehow, that’s not the weirdest part.

In some of these memories, Steve will call him the strangest things. Like “baby”, “sweetie”, “sweet pea”, “darling boy”, and “my little boy”. Those aren’t really things you call your best friend or even your significant other.

He is well aware that littles exist. They make up a solid 10% of the population, with caregivers making up 15%. Honestly, littles are adorable. But, he himself always assumed that he was in the vast 75% of neutrals. How could he not be? Being little is purely biological. HYDRA couldn’t have taken that away, Bucky thinks. But then again, Bucky ponders,

_ ….Could they have? _

_Nope, no. If Steve finds out, Steve will boot him out the door. Even though Steve loves the littles they know, Bucky just knows that Steve will hate him if he tells him. So, not a chance._

Bucky (carefully this time) picks up the book and snags his pen from his nightside table drawer. He thinks for a moment, before beginning to write down his thoughts.

_ Dear good ol’ notebook o’ mine, _

_<strike>Hi. Hello.</strike> <strike>Greetings and salutations.</strike> <strike>God, I’m so weird.</strike> <strike>Why am I even doing this?</strike> It’s been another not-so-great night. I woke up once again from nightmares. Surprise! This time around it wasn’t just one memory, but a whole smorgasbord of pain. I can still hear the ringing in my ears from gunshots, can still sense the phantom pains of my old arm, can still feel the necks snapping in my hand. Funny how a life, something that took so much effort to create, can be erased from existence in a matter of seconds. It’s really not that funny, but I guess I just have a messed up mind. I mean, what else is new?_

_ On a more serious note, I really don’t know how I’m supposed to have Steve’s six o’clock when I can’t even stay asleep until then. We have a mission tomorrow (well technically today), and I am so tired. Not just sleep-deprived, but I’m tired of everything. I’m tired of nightmares, I’m tired of having to pretend to be okay, I’m tired of wanting something I can’t have. _

_I want Steve. And yeah, I’ve got him in the “we’re best buddies” sense, but I’m talking about having him in the “we smooch all the time” sense. Whenever I say I love you to Steve, I mean something different than what he means when he says it. I want to make love, to kiss, to cuddle, to have him wrap his arms around me and tell me that everything is going to be okay._

_ And…..for some reason…. I want these other things too. They feel so real when I dream about them, almost like distant memories. It feels, almost, like how people describe being little to be like. And, I can’t help but to wonder if I was a little. You know, before everything. _

_And once I go down that path, I can’t help but to wonder how HYDRA dealt with that…? Am I still little? Did they erase that part of me? If so, why do I still want all these things?? It’s just all so confusing. Steve hasn’t talked to me about it, so I assume that he either wants no part in it or has no recollection of it. _

_Anyway, I can never go back to sleep after these nightmares, so I’m probably just going to end up looking through today’s mission file. Silently, that is, because if Steve catches me awake at this hour, he will either kill me, ban me from today’s mission, or both. _

_Goodbye for now. Hopefully, I never write in you again, because I only do if I’m upset. _

_Sincerely yours, _

_James “Bucky” Buchanan Barnes (The Winter Soldier) _

Bucky put the notebook down with a large sigh and returned it to its home, in his nightside table drawer. He got up, bringing his pen with him, and went down the stairs to the main floor of his and Steve’s place in the Avengers Compound. Sitting on the dining table, illuminated by the lamp that Steve insists they keep on in case one of them has a nightmare and doesn’t know where they are because it’s too dark, is the case file.

Bucky plops himself into one of the wooden chairs and flips open the hefty file. The first word that stands out to him is “HYDRA”. Chills find their way creeping down his spine, and he lets his body emit a small shiver as he attempts to block certain memories from coming to the front of his mind. He continues to read, and he is shocked at the fact that it states in the file that this mission will be their hardest yet. SHIELD usually doesn’t let any opinion based sentences to be in their files, so this mission must be the real deal if they are just stating something like that right off the bat.

He reads on, to see who their target is. When his eyes scan the picture, he immediately recognizes him.

[(the first post on this blog)](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/colourmeinblog)

A sound between a gasp and a whine escapes the back of his throat. He’d recognize that face anywhere.

A large thud sounds throughout the house as Bucky falls from his chair, and onto the floor. He crawls underneath the table, brings his knees to his chest and begins to rock himself back and forth all while tears threaten to pour out of his eyes.

Soon enough, Bucky’s head starts to hurt with such immense pain from a combination of scrunching his eyes closed really hard, not breathing enough, and refusing to let himself cry. It hurts.

_ Everything hurts_.

His head, his eyes, his arm...his arm. Bucky looks to the left, to see his metal arm. He sobs harder and digs his fingernails into the skin that joint the metal arm to the rest of him, attempting to get rid of the constant reminder of the pain he caused others and the pain that was inflicted on himself.

Bucky was so wrapped up in his own mind, that he didn’t hear the door upstairs open and didn’t hear the feet thudding quickly down the stairs over to the table he remained under.

Only when warm arms wrapped around him did he notice the presence of another person. Quickly, he scrambled away and out from under the table. His breath quickened even further, as he continued to look around at his surroundings, like a crazed animal.

“Bucky! It’s Steve. You’re in the Avengers tower. It’s November 3rd, 2019. You’re safe, pal.” A voice sounded.

_Steve_, he thinks. _I know Steve_.

“Steve?” Bucky’s voice croaked out. A ghost of a smile appeared on Steve’s face, as he responded with:

“Yeah, Buck. It’s Steve. Your Stevie.”

An unwelcome sob escaped from Bucky’s throat. Taking his recognition as a green light, Steve moved closer to Bucky slowly, as if he was a cornered animal that could spook at any moment. In a way, he was.

Warm arms once again enveloped Bucky, and this time, Bucky leaned into them as a result of an instinct deep down telling him to. Steve slowly began shushing Bucky and moving him into his lap.

“It’s alright sweetheart, I’m here.”

_As soon as those five words exited Steve’s mouth, Bucky suddenly got a flash of a memory…. _

_It was 1939, and Bucky had just gotten his letter in the mail with his classification. Steve had gotten his earlier in the week, with him, as expected, being a caretaker (despite his small stature). Bucky was pretty sure he was going to be a neutral, but Steve had his doubts. Bucky seemed to be showing more Little traits like a loving of sweets, little self-control, temper tantrums, and a small lisp. _

_Bucky bounded into the living area with his letter, ready to open it with Steve by his side. He tore it open, and his eyes scanned the letter quickly, before rereading it and dropping to his knees. Steve rushed over. _

_“Buck? What is it? Are you alright?” Bucky pushed Steve away from himself and curled up into a small ball before resuming his sobbing. Steve picked up the letter on the ground. It read:_

_ “Congratulations James Barnes! Your classification is unique and quite special. You have been classified as a Little! Due to the fact you currently reside with a caretaker, he will be your legal caretaker unless you disagree, in which case, you must appeal to the National Classification Agency……” _

_It went on for another few pages, but Steve had already read enough to know what was causing Bucky such distress. Steve scooched over to Bucky and hugged him with all his might. _

_“Oh bud, it’s going to be alright,” Bucky shook his head and calmed down his sobs in order to get out: _

_“No-o, i-it’s not-t St-teve-e,” before collapsing into Steve and sobbing even harder than before. _

_“**It’s alright sweetheart, I’m here**,” _

Bucky gasped and broke Steve’s grip before sprinting upstairs into his room and slamming the door. Bucky locked the door, and slid against the back of his door, sobbing his poor heart out. He heard Steve coming upstairs and then a knock on his door.

“Buck? What happened?” Bucky didn’t respond and just kept weeping, silently now, hoping that Steve thought him to be falling asleep. It worked, and a few moments later, Steve walked away.

Bucky breathed a sigh of relief, before settling into a corner of his room, staying awake and vigilant.

If he was awake, he couldn’t have a nightmare.

No more screams or sobs or blood or pain.

_But then again, if that’s what constitutes a nightmare, isn’t he in one all the time?_

**Author's Note:**

> How was the chapter? Please let me know in the comments! Suggestions and constructive criticism are always welcomed! Questions are of course welcomed as well. Toodles!
> 
> -Live_Love_Read
> 
> P.S.The password for the Tumblr blog is: Steve and Bucky forever   
(only s and b are capitals, and there are spaces between the words)


End file.
